Figé Dans Le Temps
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'It's his first signing abroad since… since she made a mess of things and spent months with him at her side, carefully putting all the pieces back together and earning the forgiveness she sought, the trust she shook.' A post season 8 AU. Inspired by photo prompts sent to me on tumblr.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: For those of you who follow me on tumblr, you may have already read this little four-part, photo inspired series. But after receiving a couple of requests over the past few weeks to do so, I thought transferring the compilation here for easier access might be a good idea. So, if you're reading for the first time, please enjoy, and if not, I hope you don't mind seeing this story once more!**

 **It is also important to note that these ficlets were written in the beginning of season 8, months prior to the conclusion of the series, and therefore, are considered AU from around midseason.**

* * *

"Have I mentioned how happy I am that you came?"

Kate smirks against his shoulder, resting her forehead there and breathing in the scent of him beneath the day's worth of travel and frenzied rush to his book signing in the heart of Milan. They've been on the move for the last 24 hours, boarding planes and striding down foreign streets, but she's enjoyed every second of it.

It's his first signing abroad since… since she made a mess of things and spent months with him at her side, carefully putting all the pieces back together and earning the forgiveness she sought, the trust she shook.

"Happy to be here, babe," she sighs, allowing him to lead her by the hand when the hotel elevator comes to a stop on their floor and the doors are sliding open.

"I'm sorry we haven't had much downtime," he offers sincerely over his shoulder, already digging the keycard for their suite out of his pocket. "I expected us to at least have a chance to stop by the hotel, grab a few hours of sleep or even do some exploring before the signing."

"Not your fault the plane was delayed," she reasons, squeezing his hand in reassurance. He second guesses himself more now, his confidence tending to waver, and she hates that, hates that she caused it. "Just sorry I won't have the energy to try out the jacuzzi tub you and Evan have been raving about."

Castle chuckles, sliding the key into the metal slot and nudging the door open with his shoulder. His assistant, Evan, had already had their bags transferred to the room for them hours ago, even stocked the mini fridge and bar for them, but they had eaten at the restaurant not long ago. All she wanted now was to crawl in bed with her husband.

Rick releases her hand once they're inside, heads for the two duffel bags placed neatly atop the king sized bed in the middle of the beautiful Italian hotel room.

"Shower tonight or in the morning?" he asks, unzipping his bag and then hers, retrieving their toiletries.

Beckett smiles, watching him transfer their toothbrushes and travel sized shampoos to the adjoining en suite.

"Morning," she replies once he returns. "Too tired tonight."

She does bypass him for the gorgeous bathroom, though, squeezing his shoulder as she goes to retrieve her makeup remover from the zipped plastic bag he placed on the marble 'his and her' sink, and one of the wash cloths hanging on the gleaming towel rack.

Her nightly routine is simple, but she takes her time, washing her face clean with care, ensuring that every trace of foundation and streak of mascara is gone, and applying a liberal amount of the moisturizer that he adores, claiming that it smells like honeysuckles and vanilla.

"Stunning."

Kate lifts her eyes from the draining sink to find Castle's in the mirror, clad in his boxers and a t-shirt, watching her with a crooked grin. And maybe it's silly, but it makes her heart flutter with an untamable joy that he can still make her blush.

"You're pretty striking yourself," she tosses back, freeing her hair from the messy bun she had tied it into and shaking a hand through the limp mane. It's growing out too long again, cascading down to the middle of her back, and she longs for a cut, or at least a decent trim, but in the meantime, at least Castle is enjoying it. Toying with the locks, tangling the strands around his fingers before combing them out any time he wakes before her. "Mind if I borrow one of your shirts?"

A pleased laugh flutters past her lips when he holds the black t-shirt out to her with a knowing smile, because of course he had already known, typically aware of what she wants before she can even decide herself.

"Taught me well," he reminds her and she drifts away from the sink to meet him at the doorframe, accepting the shirt from his fingers and rising on her tiptoes to smear a kiss to his mouth.

And sometimes it's just this - the smile of his lips against hers, the assurance of his love for her in his eyes, a love she thought would be irrevocably tainted by her actions - that leaves her breathless, overwhelmed by him.

"I love you."

Castle steadies her with a palm at her jaw, soothing the sharp edges, sliding into her hair to cup her ear while he stares down at her. Concern flickers in his eyes for a moment before understanding settles there, keeping them that calm but piercing cerulean. It gets to him too.

"I love you too," he murmurs, so earnest and beautiful, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Meet you in the bed."

He nods towards the bathroom and Kate steps out of his way, allows him the chance to complete his own nightly routines while she strips of her fitted jeans and the thin sweater she had worn, regretted when the chill of a Milan morning had greeted them in their depart from the airport.

Kate slides his shirt on, allowing the collar to catch on her nose for a moment, inhales his aftershave mixed with their laundry detergent, and tosses her clothing towards her open suitcase near the nightstand. Her bra misses, landing haphazardly to hang on the arm of a chair, but she lacks the energy to right it, doesn't think Castle will mind anyway.

She crawls into the bed with a quiet sigh of relief, slipping beneath the warm weight of the comforter and dropping her head to sink into the memory foam pillow she knows he requested, humming as the knots in her neck finally begin to loosen.

Castle emerges from the bathroom only a few seconds later, flipping off the light switch and the tall lamp near the door, leaving only the dull illumination of the nightstand lamp to light his way to her.

"What're you doing?" she mumbles when he stops short, holding his phone up and angling it towards her.

"Taking a picture," he informs her with a quirk of his mouth and Kate rolls her eyes, doesn't even try to stop him as she hears the multiple clicks of his iPhone's camera photographing her.

"Castle," she huffs after the fifth snap, reaching weakly for the device he holds just out of her reach. "I don't even have any makeup on-"

"So?" he murmurs, showing mercy and placing his phone on the bedside bureau next to hers. "You're beautiful, Beckett. Gotta capture it. I want as many photos of you as possible."

And she knows he doesn't mean it like that, isn't trying to insinuate that she's going to disappear on him, not again, but that's where her mind goes, triggering an eruption of familiar sorrow through her chest.

"You won't need them," she promises, earning a puzzled crease of his brow.

"What do you-" Realization blooms through his eyes, arcs through his brow, and then he's shaking his head, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to her hip and bowing to hover over her. "Not what I meant, sweetheart."

"I know," she whispers, taking advantage of his proximity and grazing her fingers along his forearm, through the soft field of golden hairs. "I know."

"Do you?" he asks quietly, his knuckles at her temple, thumb brushing along the vein that sometimes bulges beneath the skin of her forehead when her emotions overtake. "I've forgiven you, Kate. Forgave you a long time ago. You've got to do the same."

Kate meets his eyes, so soothing and inquisitive staring down at her, and she has to lift her hand to his face, map the lines and trace along the contours of bone.

"Working on it," she confesses on a sigh. She's been working hard on herself, on their relationship, on mending, and she's done a pretty good job. They're happy, the scars they've managed to inflict on one another healed, but she still worries sometimes, still wonders if she could be better.

"I know you are," he says, catching the hand at his cheek, turning his head to smudge a kiss to her palm that she curls her fingers around, caressing the tender flesh of his mouth with her fingertips. "Proud of you for it."

"Castle?"

He abandons the soft skin of her palm to redirect his attention to her half-lidded gaze. "Mm?"

"Will you get in this bed with me already?" she mumbles, tugging impatiently on the waistband of his boxers, not trying to hide her grin when he laughs at her before shifting to crawl over her.

She lifts the sheet and the comforter for him to slide beneath, rolling onto her side to drape her body half atop his once he's comfortable, relishing in the twine of his arm around her shoulders, the room he makes for her knee to fit between both of his, and the way he nuzzles her neck, chuckling at the startled laugh she releases when he blows a raspberry beneath her jaw.

"Better?" he rumbles, settling beneath her with a content exhale and Kate nods, snaking a hand beneath his t-shirt to splay her fingers along the warm skin stretched across the side of his ribs.

Her eyes are already giving up the fight, threatening to fall shut even as Rick stretches to cut the tiny lamp off, submerging them in the moonlit darkness. She knows she's drifting once he begins to rub her back, knuckles skimming up and down the curved length of her spine like a silent lullaby.

"Love you, Kate."

Definitely better.


	2. Chapter 2

The rain had woken her from the blissful dozing she had fallen into, pitter-pattering against the apartment window and gently drawing her into consciousness. She had fallen in love with Paris, with the way the city looked at night and the beautiful view they had from their bedroom window, and she had been unable to resist catching a glimpse of the rain kissed sidewalks and elegant buildings through the mist.

Italy had been beautiful, Milan stealing most of their time and her breath, and she looked forward to Germany, to London and their final stop in Dublin, but Paris had proven her favorite so far.

"Come back to bed."

Kate glances over her shoulder with a smile playing at the edges of her lips. He's watching her, the comforter bunched at his waist and exposing his broad chest that she had momentarily abandoned, his eyes a cloudy blue like the sky outside, hazy with afterglow.

"Beckett," he hums, his voice a raspy, enticing husk that had filled her ear an hour ago, woken her along with the brush of his lips along her neck "I'm lonely. And cold."

She rolls her eyes when the sated quality of his tone gives way to whining, toying thoughtlessly with the top button of his shirt and inadvertently redirecting his attention.

"I like you in my clothes," he sighs out, resting his head against her pillow and raking wistful eyes down her body, lingering where his shirt ends just above her outer thigh, grazing slowly down the length of her legs. "I like you without my clothes too."

"The post coital rambling always suits you well, babe," she chuckles, resting the rounded edge of her shoulder against the glass pane, sparing one more glimpse out into the city that glimmers in light and the aftermath of another shower.

It's been raining since they had arrived a few days ago, one of the many cities on Castle's European book tour that she had been unable to resist joining him on when the opportunity had presented itself. They had only been scheduled to spend 48 hours in Paris, but she had failed at hiding her awe for the city, how reluctant she was to leave, and her husband had pulled some strings, endured a lecture from Paula to push the signing in Berlin back a week.

And she was grateful, so grateful to experience one of the most romantic places on earth with him at her side, but she doesn't think it's the city that has captured her heart, that has made this trip so special. It's still him, just him, making everywhere they go more magical than it could ever be otherwise.

The familiar snap of his camera app startles her, has her shooting him a glare over her shoulder. "Castle."

"I was capturing art," he muses, grinning at his phone like a mischievous little boy successful in his scheming. "At this rate, I'm going to be able to start a 'candid Kate in Europe' photo album."

"Stop taking pictures of me," she grumbles, but her cheeks are warm with the effort it takes to restrain her smile. Sweet man, so good to her.

"Then come back to bed," he coaxes, wriggling his brow at her, dropping his palm to the empty stretch of sheets beside him and fanning out his fingers.

She wonders how much that happened while she was gone, in their bed at home, how often he glanced to the empty space beside him that she was supposed to fill. Unthinkingly, she clutches at the fabric draped loose over her chest, swallows back the bile the memory of the pain she had caused often elicits.

They were better now, so much better, and this trip through the European continent had been convenient, allowing them to spend time together while successfully promoting his latest bestseller. It had also been therapeutic, a thorough way to heal the last of the wounds she had single-handedly inflicted upon them both a near year ago. Soothing the scars.

"Kate." His voice is soft, knowing as it floats through the air, and the sadness drains from around her heart, melted by the warmth of his presence, and Beckett drifts away from the window.

"I never thought I'd like Paris again," Castle murmurs, extending his fingers to dust along the knee she plants to the edge of the mattress.

"Kinda impossible to hate a place that allows me to wake up, spend a lazy Tuesday morning in bed with you," she hums, quirking her brow and crawling towards him. It's a little sappy for her, but Castle loves words, powerful lines and lasting declarations.

And just as she had hoped, his entire face lights up, beams for her, and that's all that matters, that she can make him happy.

"And spend the rest of the morning in bed with me," he adds pointedly, fingering the collar of his dress shirt, and Kate rolls her shoulder, allows the material to slip down.

Only one button is holding his shirt together and he slides the disc through its slot, allows the fabric to fall apart.

Kate descends back into the welcoming cove of his body, smiling against his mouth as he pushes the covers out of the way and slides his hands beneath the flowing back of his shirt, caressing the length of her spine, the sharp wings of her shoulder blades.

The shirt he had worn to dinner last night flutters to the hardwood floor beside the bed, where it had landed last night too, while her hair tumbles free of the messy bun she had scraped it into, falling around their faces like a curtain and tickling Rick's cheeks.

"So glad you're here, that you came with me," he mumbles, purring like the kitten that he is when she combs tender fingers through his hair, tracing the curve of his brow and outlining the shape of his lips with her thumb. He has happily adopted the habit of professing how grateful he is that she's with him every day since they boarded the first plane in New York, staring at her with sparkling eyes while they buckled in, preparing for takeoff.

And just like she had then in that moment, like she does every time he whispers the words to her, she pours her own gratitude into a kiss, hoping he can taste it on her tongue and hear it in the 'I love you' she manages to smear against his lips.

The rain is starting up again, a pleasant soundtrack to accompany the wonderful sensation of Castle's gentle hands mapping out every inch of her skin, and part of her wishes they never had to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

Castle trudges up the stairs of the Parisian apartment that is theirs for the week, huffing his way through the winding two flights. It isn't that he's out of shape, Beckett had mentioned just last night that his stamina was _fantastic_ , but he had opted to walk home from the signing instead of taking the car service and well, it had taken longer than he had expected and climbing a seemingly unending staircase isn't exactly helping matters.

The bookstore that had hosted the signing hadn't been far and Kate always encouraged strolling through cities rather than taking cabs if the distance to their destination wasn't great, but walking without Kate by his side isn't nearly as fun and he had been winded and wet by the time he made it into the lobby.

Just his luck that the mist of a rain shower would choose to descend upon the streets of Pairs during his mile long walk home.

Rick sighs in relief once he makes it to the landing, the front door only a few steps away, and withdraws his key from the pocket of his thin pea coat. It's still early in the day, his signing had been an early morning event that had pulled him and his wife out of bed at seven and rushed them through a quick breakfast, and he hoped that after a little lounging time, he and Beckett could do some more city exploring.

Castle inserts his key into the lock, turns it and eases the door open, barely making a sound. He likes this apartment; it's quaint and maybe a little cramped in some places, but it has charm, a certain elegance to it that he knows Kate was drawn to from the beginning.

He's contemplating buying the place, surprising her with it or bringing the idea up for discussion before they leave for Berlin in a few days. The thought of flying back here in the future with his wife for weekend getaways in the city of lights and lovers has the dampness the rain had put on his mood dissipating, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

After his daughter had been captured nearly four years ago, held prisoner in this foreign city, he thought he would hate the place forever, returning only for business obligations and book tours, but Alexis held no grudge against the city, mentioning on the phone yesterday that she herself hoped to return one day soon. Under better circumstances, of course.

Maybe he could find an even bigger place, an apartment or a condo that could comfortably house the three of them, offer an extra room for his mother or Jim Beckett, or perhaps, another addition to their family someday…

Castle blinks away the daydreams, shrugging out of his coat in the apartment doorway and hanging it in the small front hall closet, toeing off his shoes to avoid creating a trail of damp footprints on the wooden floors.

Kate had joined him at the signing this morning, but after two hours of browsing through the popular Paris bookshop, shooting him tired but encouraging smiles from the rows of shelves while he interacted with fans, he had told her to go back home during his break, get some rest. She had been reluctant and he knew why, knew that separating in a foreign country made her uneasy to begin with, but especially after the events of last year. After they had spent too many months apart, time they would never get back, time that had damaged them both. But they had undergone the necessary repairs, the wounds had healed, and this trip had put the finishing touches on the sealed cracks along his heart.

He no longer worries so much about returning home to find her gone or waiting with a bag packed.

Rick drifts into the living room area and finds his wife arranged on one of the stylish armchairs, still in her clothes from the signing - a blouse of thin flowing material that allows his hands easy access to the bare skin beneath, and the fitted black slacks that make her legs appear endless - with a book balanced in her hand and her mind lost to a world created by another writer.

Hemingway, he catches the name of the author as he approaches quietly, not wanting to disturb her just yet, to break her concentration on the paperback that has consumed her attention, but he does retrieve his phone from his back pocket, angles the device until he has her entire body in the frame of the iPhone's camera.

The fingers poised at her lips fall at the snap of sound as he captures the picture, her eyes darting up from the page to find him with a glare.

"Enjoying your latest purchase?" He winces, but he can't help admiring the photo now adorning his screen. She looks… stunning, like something out of a museum or a fashion magazine, so elegant and artistic.

Beautiful, as always.

"I _was_ ," she emphasizes the past tense, but her lips are curling into a smile, her eyes shimmering gold in the clouded, grey light pouring in through the window. "How did the rest of the signing go?"

Kate closes the book, places it to rest on the edge of the chair while he pockets his phone, coming forward to press a kiss to the top of her head and watching that small smile grow.

"Fine," he murmurs, cupping the back of her skull and settling his hand beneath the knot of her hair. "I am starving though."

"Four hours of signing books and offering dazzling smiles takes a lot out of you, I know," Beckett teases, turning her head to smear her grin to the inside of his wrist as he pouts at her. "Give me a second and we'll go find you some sustenance, baby."

"Good, because all I've had is a granola bar and I'm withering here."

The snort that leaves her lips has him grinning, dropping the dramatics as she rises from the chair and pops her bare toes on the hardwood before elevating on them to steal a kiss from his mouth. Castle cups the harsh angles of her jaw in his palms while he has her close, rests his forehead to hers and nuzzles her nose when she remains content on the tips of her toes with her arms around his waist.

"Missed you."

"You were gone for two hours," she chuckles, finally descending back to the soles of her feet, glancing up to him with soft amusement in her gaze. Her nails scratch at his back, gentle and soothing, before his hands fall away from her face, allowing her the opportunity to step free of his hold and grab her purse, her shoes, but Kate lingers, dusts one more kiss to his mouth that has his heart fluttering. "But I missed you too."


	4. Chapter 4

"I think I like Paris best in the rain," she hums from his side, huddling with him beneath the cover of their umbrella. He should buy another one, so they don't have to share, but then he wouldn't have his wife pressing into his side as they walked down the Parisian streets and why would he want to ruin that?

"Really?" Castle replies, grunting as they hop over a particularly large puddle. Walking with her to their favorite little cafe that was located only a half mile from their apartment had been lovely, the clouds present but the rain withheld. A downpour had swept through the city halfway through their meal, though, and now they were strolling through the drizzling aftermath. "I wouldn't mind some dry, sunny weather right about now."

"We have to make a stop in LA before we go home, right?" Kate quips, arching her brow at him. "You can enjoy your sunny weather when we get there."

"That's in nearly two weeks," he whines, wiggling his fingers from within the tangle of hers. Beckett squeezes his hand in return, the fit of their knotted fingers in her coat pocket snug and comforting. "And Berlin and Dublin are supposed to be cold and rainy too."

"Don't worry, baby," she hums, lifting on her toes to graze her lips along his jaw while they're forced to pause at the crosswalk. "I'll make sure to keep you warm."

Rick's blood heats at her words, the skin beneath her lips feverish even as Kate drops back to the soles of her shoes.

"Have I mentioned how grateful I am that you were able to accompany me on this book tour?" he chokes out, his arousal simmering at the delighted sound of her laughter. It often surprises her, he's noticed, when he expresses how grateful he is to have her with him on this trip, to have her with him at all. It's elicited a swirl of relief and gratitude in her eyes every single time and while it assures him of how _in this_ she is, he wants the surprise to dissipate.

He never wants her to second guess how much he wants her, loves her. How he's forgiven her.

"Quite a bit, yeah," Beckett confirms, nudging her cheek against the resting place of his shoulder while they await the pedestrian signal to flash from across the street.

"I've never had so much fun," he elaborates as they cross, dodging the sea of human bodies they have to navigate through, holding tight to the shared umbrella when a clumsy business man's jostles theirs. "I mean, when I was younger I would do the typical partying scene after the signings, but this… seeing cities with you has been so much better."

"Castle," she murmurs, her hand squeezing in his, her thumb brushing along the path of his knuckles from within the confines of her coat pocket. Her gaze downcast, the fringe of her lashes kissing her cheeks and hiding her eyes from him. "I love you."

Rick cranes his neck to press his lips to her temple, catching a glimpse of the shy emotion swirling through the jaded greens and shimmering amber of her eyes when she tugs him from the flow of traffic, down a less populated street.

"It's our last day in Paris," she starts, sticking close to him beneath the umbrella, but taking the lead down the empty but charming little street. "Want to spend the rest of the day exploring it with me?"

"Duh," he chuckles, any reservations he had about enduring extra time in the rain dissolving beneath the warmth of her smile. He and Kate had been able to visit most of the city's dazzling tourist attractions, had been able to indulge in a few romantic strolls, but they had yet to travel through the city without a destination in mind, wandering together without care, and the idea sounded all too appealing. "Anything with you."

They begin to slow along the sidewalk and Kate withdraws her hand from the embrace of his in favor of looping her arm around his neck.

"Before we start our afternoon adventure…" Castle retrieves his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, waves it at her even as she groans in feigned irritation.

It's become a sort of inside joke for the two of them, this sudden urge he so often has to photograph her, to capture all of these wonderful moments, but he knows that she doesn't mind, that his wife secretly likes it when he sneaks a picture of her or simply holds up his iPhone with the camera app opened and ready for her.

"Are you a writer or a photographer?" she had asked him on their final day in Milan last week, a scowl on her lips upon noticing his phone aimed at her during her gazing of the magnificent Milan Cathedral, but her eyes had glimmered with that teasing quality he knew all too well.

"Maybe I can be both," he had shrugged, pocketing the device. "But I don't think I'll pursue the latter. Kinda want these pictures of you all to myself."

"Sap," she had sighed, but her lips had pressed to his neck, staining the underside of his jaw in red lipstick, an image she had insisted on photographing herself.

"Come on, one more Parisian picture for my scrapbook," he coaxes, nudging her back out onto the cobblestone streets, her body framed by the corridor of elegant buildings, the rows of motorbikes parked along the charming road. "Smile for me, Beckett."

Kate gives him an eye roll and he captures that too, smirks when she huffs her frustration at him through the drizzle raining down around her. 'Adorable' is not a word he thinks many would associate with his wife, but witnessing her stand in the middle of the street with her umbrella poised over shoulder and a smile that does little to hold in her laughter while he pokes his tongue out at her, he can't conjure up a more befitting adjective.

"Happy?" she questions, quirking her brow at him, but the smile is still on her lips as she rushes back through the rain to him, holding out the umbrella to offer him shelter once more.

Castle ducks beneath the black umbrella to cup her face in his hands, smudge a kiss to her mouth that has her humming in contentment and sipping the raindrops from his tongue. "Couldn't be happier."

Kate fingers comb through his dampened locks, the heat of her body rising up to meet his eradicating the brief chill of the rainwater he had endured for the sake of a picture, and he thinks rainy days in Paris may be his favorite too.


End file.
